


Runaway

by nishizono



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-04
Updated: 2011-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:36:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishizono/pseuds/nishizono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd discovered each other on a jogging path in the park, on a brisk April morning when Arthur was nineteen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Runaway

They tell everyone they met in the military, but they actually met in New York.

They'd discovered each other on a jogging path in the park, on a brisk April morning when Arthur was nineteen. Eames had been out for a run, and Arthur had been perched in a tree, and through a series of unfortunate events, Arthur had dropped his shoe on the path just as Eames was approaching.

Eames stopped and stared at the shoe, then craned his neck to look up at Arthur, who was glaring down at him. “It's probably none of my business,” said Eames, “but do you mind if I ask what you're doing?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and held up his copy of The Fountainhead.

“Ah, of course, just reading Ayn Rand in a tree at six in the morning. Perfectly normal.” Eames chuckled, then knelt to retrieve Arthur's shoe. He turned it over in his hands a few times, then held it up so Arthur could see it. “I suppose you'll be wanting this back?”

“Just leave it,” said Arthur, then opened his book again with every intention of pretending to read until Eames went away. It would be the first in a long series of decisions about Eames that wouldn't go as planned. After almost a full minute of silence, Eames was still standing there, staring at him, so Arthur sighed and slammed his book shut. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Well,” Eames grinned and crossed his arms, “I think since you've interrupted my run to have me rescue your shoe, you owe me a favor, don't you?”

“Excuse me?” said Arthur, torn between outrage and bemusement. “I didn't have you _rescue_ my shoe. I told you to leave it where it is.”

“And let someone else come by and snatch it up? Nonsense. I wouldn't dream of being so unchivalrous.”

Arthur's jaw clenched. “Look, I don't know what the fuck your problem is, but fuck off, okay? I'm not interested in chit-chat, and I'm definitely not interested in making friends with random, annoying joggers.”

“All right, all right,” said Eames. He dropped Arthur's shoe and held up both hands in defeat, but then he hesitated for a moment and asked, “Are you out here every morning?”

“Why the hell do you care?”

Eames had laughed then, and his eyes had crinkled at the corners when he smiled up at Arthur-- at naïve, nineteen-year-old Arthur with his carefully cultivated apathy and his ratty old band t-shirt, who had no way of knowing he'd just met the love of his life.

“Because,” said Eames as he'd started walking backwards down the path, “some morning I'm going to come by and ask you to breakfast, and when I do, you're going to say yes.”

“Not a chance,” said Arthur, but Eames had just given him a knowing smile before turning and jogging away.

And Arthur? Arthur had watched him leave as the sun rose over Manhattan, and thought, _yeah, okay, maybe._


End file.
